


Waiting

by ice_hot_13



Category: The Following
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:39:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice_hot_13/pseuds/ice_hot_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jacob isn't living anymore (spoilers ep. 10, kinda? Also, gets weird and dark? And death? I don't know what to include in warnings)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting

He _still sees Paul._

It should be rattling, should be terrifying, should tell Jacob he’s going fucking insane, but - but he doesn’t feel any of that. He sees Paul standing in the doorway, and for a moment, all Jacob feels is _relief._ All he’s felt since - since then, is an emptiness, and for a moment, Jacob feels like he’s still alive, because Paul - he’s right here, he’s smiling at Jacob and sitting on the side of the bed and Jacob _cries,_ he’s so happy because Paul - he’s here, he’s _alive,_ and for the moment Jacob believes this, he is too.

            When Paul disappears, the emptiness is back, like Jacob never made a momentary escape.

 

                       

            Jacob kisses Emma, because - because she kissed Paul, once, because Jacob’s lost all traces of himself but maybe he left an imprint here. Maybe Paul did, maybe somehow on Emma’s skin, there will be the memory of who Jacob was with Paul. Jacob finds nothing, and when he looks up - Paul’s back, _he’s back,_ and - and he’s looking at Jacob like _this,_ this is Jacob’s worst betrayal. Jacob’s heart races the second he sees Paul, and it’s only when Paul disappears that Jacob realises it’s the first time he’s felt he has a heart since - since then.

            When he runs away from Emma, it’s to be faced with Paul again, and when Jacob slashes at him, he’s doing to Paul what he wants to do to himself.

 

           

            Jacob can’t ever seem to sleep anymore. When he dreams - he dreams of conversations he never had with Paul.

            _“They’d hate me, if they knew, everyone would, I would lose - everything, Paul, everything-”_

_“Not me,” Paul says, but he’s leaving the bedroom, he’s going downstairs, and Jacob trips over the bedsheets when he runs to follow, because if he lets Paul out of his sight - Jacob’s never lost him before, but he can already feel how much it would hurt if he did._

When Jacob wakes up, he’s not in bed anymore. He’s in the laundry room, all pressed into the corner, and he’s just - lost, so lost, and Paul _isn’t here._

            But he is, he is, he’s right in front of Jacob, bending down and touching Jacob’s cheek gently. “You left me,” Jacob chokes out, but he wants to fall into Paul’s arms, sob for how much he hurts. “You died.”

            “I would never do that to you,” Paul says.

            “Die?” Jacob whispers. Paul smiles a little, but he’s got tears in his eyes.

            “Leave you,” he says, right before he does just that. He gets up, walks away, and Jacob runs to follow, but the room is empty.

            When he manages to go back to sleep, it’s only to wake up an hour later, reaching for Paul.

 

           

            “Have you reconciled with Emma?” Joe asks, the tone that says he already knows the answer, and he’s looking for an explanation.

            “We’re working on it.”

            “That’s good,” Joe says, smiles in a way that’s starting to scare Jacob even though it hasn’t changed at all since the beginning. “I think it’s very important that you repair this relationship.”

            Jacob nods, looks over Joe’s shoulder when he sees movement, and - and it’s Paul, wearing a shirt of Jacob’s, the one he always used to steal. Jacob asked him about it once; Paul blushed furiously, made excuses, changed clothes to go for a run and never took Jacob’s clothes again. Jacob spent three hours looking for that shirt in this house, just - just in case it was here. Maybe Paul has it; Jacob wants him to.

            When Joe leaves, Jacob runs to where Paul’s standing by the window, looking out. “Maybe we should landscape,” Paul says. “We’re supposed to have good style, right?”

            “I don’t,” Jacob says, just what he said before, a well-worn track because he’s done it before.

            “Well, you aren’t gay,” Paul says, just like the first time. Now, though, now Jacob sees Paul was _waiting,_ he was waiting for Jacob to prove it wrong.

            “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jacob whispers, buries his face in his hands, sobs when he feels Paul’s arms around him.

            “It’s okay, I know you never were,” Paul says, but that’s not what Jacob _meant._

            “For you,” he whispers, but Paul doesn’t hear that.

            “I love you,” Paul says, “I know you were never mine.”

            “I was, I was, I was,” Jacob sobs, falls to his knees when Paul disappears. He can’t change what Paul knows now. He’d always hoped Paul knew, somehow knew.

 

                       

            “Why did you only tell me when you were dying?!”

            “Jacob,” Paul says, and it’s gentle, so gentle, even though Jacob’s been yelling so loud it hurts, “I was dying the whole time.”

            “No!” Jacob yells, “you don’t get to be poetic, Paul, don’t give me that, tell me the truth!”

            Paul never raises his voice, not when they’re in this house, with the matching wallpaper and pale sheets and the knowing that they would sleep in the same bed - but he does now, they’re not in that house, they’re in this house where Jacob only sees him in glimpses. “You don’t get to tell me I _wasn’t!_ ” he roars, “it was like I was dying _every day,_ because it _hurt_ , Jacob, it hurt so fucking much, and I did tell you! I told you a thousand different ways that I loved you! So you tell me, Jacob, because I fucking want to know, why could you _never_ understand me? Is it because you didn’t want to hear that?” He’s crying, and it hurts, it hurts so _bad,_ he’s standing there like he wants to be strong but Jacob _knows_ him, and all he’s ever known is Paul as self-deceiving and Paul breaking down.

            “I did love you,” Jacob says, but Paul doesn’t _hear him,_ he can’t hear this, because he never heard it before - before then, he never heard it in Jacob’s voice so he’s deaf to it now.

            “You think I did all this for Joe? Maybe he’s why I came, but I stayed for _you,_ Jacob, I stayed because there were three years where I had _everything,_ but it was a lie, wasn’t it? We both knew it was a lie, and why didn’t I deserve better?”

            Paul only tells Jacob these things now that he’s like this, now that he can disappear as soon as he said it. “I loved you too!” Jacob says to the now-empty room, “I loved you, and I died, too!”

            He hears footsteps like Paul’s walking away, and it sounds like the last beats of Jacob’s heart; he only has it when Paul’s around.

  


Jacob tries to leave.

He gets as far as the edge of the property, but then Paul appears, watching Jacob walk down the path, motionless. “Aren’t you coming?” Jacob asks; he doesn’t know where he’s going, but Paul belongs there too. Paul shakes his head, jaw tight; there are tears in his eyes. “But - but _please,_ Paul-” Paul just shakes his head no again.

“This is all I was to you,” he says, sweeps a hand back towards the house.

“You _weren’t,”_ Jacob says, begging, _begging,_ “I didn’t know what to do with you,” he whispers, “you surrendered for me.”

“I love you,” Paul says, his voice hoarse. “I used to pretend that was my life. I had to make up stories about how we met - you want to know my favourite one?”

“Paul,” Jacob whispers.

“It’s that we met when we were younger,” Paul says, the words breaking, “like, in fucking – high school, before I became all fucked up, because that’s the only way you could love me - if you thought that somewhere in me, there was a better person. There’s not, Jacob, there’s really not, this is all I have, but I wish you _believed_ that,” he says, and it hurts, Jacob’s _sobbing,_ “you believed enough lies about me, but never that.”

“I _loved you,”_ Jacob promises, but Paul’s looking at the house.

“I never knew if I should hate all of this or be grateful. I want to hate it,” he says, like he’s pleading with Jacob for this. “It killed me.”

“I did that,” Jacob whispers. Paul looks at him for a long, long moment.

“I’ve never left you,” he says, “if you leave now - that’s you, Jacob, that’s not me going anywhere.”

Jacob stays.

 

“It’s like you aren’t even here anymore,” Emma says, and it’s quiet in the hallway, just her quiet voice. This is the only time Jacob ever speaks to her, when he runs into her on accident. He can see Paul in the doorway, watching them like this is tearing his heart out.

“I don’t think I am,” Jacob says; he only feels alive when Paul’s looking at him.

“Jacob-”

“I _loved_ him,” Jacob says, steps away from her, “you hear me?” he nearly yells, but it’s at Paul, not Emma, and Paul never hears him.

“You didn’t, Jacob,” Emma says, and Paul looks up, so _hurt,_ because he heard that. He’s heard that all along.

“Why do you want to hear this from me? You don’t care that it’s _your fault_ he died, and now you want to hear that I never loved him, too? Fine, Emma! I never loved him! Now leave me alone!”

“Jacob,” he hears, before Paul disappears.

“I didn’t mean it-” he tries to plead, but Paul’s gone, he’s _gone._

“Jacob,” he hears again, but it’s Emma’s voice this time, all Jacob has left.

  


Paul doesn’t come back.

Jacob _looks_ for him, but he’s nowhere. He’s gone, he finished dying and he disappeared, and Jacob’s still looking for him, because he disappearing still thinking Jacob never loved him.

_“I’m Paul,” he says, and Jacob - he knows Paul. They just met, but he has thousands of memories of Paul already. He can feel exactly how Paul fits against him and they’ve never touched._

_“I didn’t mean what I said to Emma,” Jacob says, because he remembers - he remembers needing to say this, like he’s lived an entire lifetime he doesn’t know._

_“You didn’t mean it?” Paul whispers, like maybe he did too._

When Jacob wakes up, he can’t remember the sound of Paul’s voice anymore, can’t remember how it felt to have his hands on Paul, can’t remember _enough,_ because Jacob died when he did, but not enough, not _enough._

  


Emma doesn’t scream when she finds him. She’s not surprised.

            (Jacob hasn’t been to this house in so long, but he knows what’s missing. There used to be a video camera in the corner of the porch roof, and it’s gone, and he can’t quite remember why it used to be there. He unlocks the front door, goes inside, and it’s familiar, like part of him never left).

            “Some love stories are tragedies,” Joe says, when Emma tells him.

            (The house isn’t the same as it used to be. It’s not as painstakingly neat, it doesn’t feel staged - but why would it? Jacob feels that he’s _home._ It’s a little cluttered and the living room’s kind of messy and there’s a few dishes on the counter, but it’s lived-in. He likes that. There’s a shirt lying over the back of the couch, and when he looks at it - he doesn’t remember anything specific, just a lot of _pain,_ but that’s gone now, all the hurt).

            “This wasn’t a love story,” Emma says, but she can recognise a good story, and one that wasn’t handled correctly. This one had perfect characters; it’s all the rest that was written wrong, like a mistake.

(Jacob goes upstairs, to the bedroom, and he starts to cry when he sees Paul in bed, rushes to him. Paul reaches for him, and Jacob collapses in his arms, doesn’t know why he was so afraid Paul wouldn’t be here.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Paul says, “I knew you’d come home.”

“To here?” Jacob asks.

“To me,” Paul says, and Jacob just clings to him, doesn’t know how he ever lived away from this. He thinks - maybe he didn’t, because he _knows_ that if - if something happened to Paul, Jacob - he wouldn’t have lived).

There’s a note that says _I love you._ Somehow, Emma knows it wasn’t meant for her.

(“Paul,” Jacob says, because this - he knows this is important, he remembers too much of where he was before, and this is the last piece to fit into place before he can let go of it all. “Paul, I love you.”

Paul smiles, not like he knew, but like he’s been waiting for this, too).

  
  
  


            Jacob is really nervous. The last thing he wanted was to move, least of all to Texas - he didn’t use to have anything against the place, still doesn’t know much about it, but it just feels so - so barren, like he’ll never fit in here, not anywhere in this big high school with too many people. He feels bitterly sure about it all, when he trips during PE and hurts his ankle enough that the teacher has to come see what happened, and it’s all so painful and embarrassing, Jacob can’t _stand_ it. The teacher asks for a student to volunteer to take him to the nurse, and Jacob can’t imagine that there’s anyone here for him to volunteer, but then - somehow, Jacob knows the guy’s going to volunteer even before he says anything. Jacob’s heart is racing when he looks at him, but he doesn’t feel all that bad, because the guy smiles like he’s maybe a tiny bit nervous too.

“I’m Paul,” he says, smiles like Jacob’s something he’s been looking for, finally found.

Somehow, Jacob could believe that he came all this way for Paul.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
